The Promise

There never was a promise of another spring to come,
no more gentle bird songs, nor beatings of your drum.

There never was a promise of sunshine all year long,
no more white waves crushing, nor children chanting songs.

There never was a promise of soft landings on dying leaves,
no more golden harvests, nor music to fill our eves.

For all that was not promised, one promise true did stand
that of winter lasts eternal without you in dying lands.